Fallen Star
by Torulfr
Summary: Shepard had expected his afterlife to be peaceful, but that was not what he found. Instead, he awoke in a dark room surrounded by strangers, stuck in a teenager's body, in 1994 and told that magic exists. Can Shepard learn to survive as fate throws him into the thick of things? Slash pairing.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mass Effect trilogy or the Harry Potter series, each belongs to their respective owners and I do not profit from this in any way. I do, however, own all original characters and places. **

**Title: Fallen Star**

**Author: Torulfr**

**Summary: Shepard had expected his afterlife to be a peaceful place, but it that was not what he found. Instead, he awoke in a dark room surrounded by strangers, stuck in a sixteen year-old's body, in 1994 and told that magic exists. Can Shepard learn how to survive as fate throws him into the thick of things? Slash.**

**Warning: This story will contain slash (boy/boy) violence and alcohol abuse. If any of the aforementioned warnings are offensive then please do not read this story, because flames are not appreciated. **

**A/N: Hello, Torulfr here. This is my first attempt at a crossover, so I hope it doesn't suck too much. With a lot of the other crossovers, you just see Harry either living a super long time or somehow travel/falling into the Mass Effect universe. I hope to try something different – Shepard falling in to the Harry Potter universe. I hope you all enjoy it. **

**Prologue **

A void – a black and soundless void which was what Shepard had found himself in. He looked franticly about him, searching for… He didn't know what he was looking for. The end he supposed, or rather what came after it. He had hoped to find Ashley, Thane, Anderson and all the other people he had lost in his life in some paradise. But, he was left with this void. There was not even a constellation or single star. Shepard had never understood why Samara had called space a great void, because to him it was life. Space for her might have been her greatest torment, knowing that her daughter was out there, killing innocent people. That void of Samara's was nothing compared to what he found himself in, a true abyss of emptiness.

With nothing to do, Shepard thought about his last moments of life. After he had chosen to destroy the Reapers, he had limped his way back to Anderson and settled down beside him. He could not think of anyone else he would rather spend his last moments with. He had known Admiral David Anderson for fifteen years.

Anderson had been the one to find Shepard hiding in the greenhouse on Mindoir. He had found a sixteen year old boy huddled in the corner, injured and clutching a bloodied wooden dagger. Anderson who at the time had been a commander, he promised to look after Shepard, a promise he kept when he became the boy's legal guardian until he turned eighteen. Those had been two difficult years for Shepard.

He smiled at the memories. The view he had of Earth was wonderful, in his opinion, Earth had never looked more beautiful. He thought of his parents, his crew and Kaidan. If anyone could have seen Shepard, they would have seen him die with a smile on his face.

But no-one was there. He was alone, dead.

A light puled. Shepard looked around in surprise. There nothing but the pitch black surrounding him.

"I'm already going crazy," he said to himself.

Another light pulsed, this time it vibrated all around him. It almost looked like dark energy, but the colour was wrong. It was a bright turquoise and not the blue or sometimes grey colour it should have been. The light was enough for him to see that he was still in his damaged armour. He could just imagine what a mess he looked like with his armour damaged beyond repair, coated in blood and his hair was probably a mess too. The pulsed a third time and revealed a vast ambit. Shepard stared at his surrounding in awe.

Shepard stood on a stone floored landing with lots of deep-set crack in it. He turned around and saw a green-blue sky with large chunks of floating stone debris. Large broken pillars stood upright, suspended in the air with braziers atop them lit up with blue flames. Shepard took a step backwards and heard loud sounds of stone moving against each other. He looked over his shoulder and saw the stones moving towards the edge of the landing. The stones fit together and formed a stair.

Now, Shepard was not superstitious but he had a healthy respect for whatever higher power existed in the universe and he did not want to piss off whoever was on desk in the sky. He eyed the steps before he cautiously limped over to them and took a tentative step up. When it did not collapse under his weight, he continued. More stones gathered to the build the staircase, twisting up to another landing.

Once Shepard reached the landing, he paused to catch his breath. After a moment, he continued, but as soon as his foot touched the stone, strange runes lit up across the floor.

"Okay, glow-in-the-dark floors. What's next?"

The runes pulsed in time with Shepard's limped steps. Another staircase created itself and he cursed. He was so damn tired, and now, he was wondering if he was cursed to walk up stairs for the rest of eternity. But, as he ascended, large pockets of energy floated around him and formed images created from his memories, the good and the bad. It was literally his life flashing before his eyes.

Shepard saw his mother working in the greenhouse, his stepfather rubbing salve over his bruised cheek and hands. He saw himself when he got spaced, his unit dying on Akuze and the vision he had gotten from the Prothean beacon all those years ago. He saw Anderson smiling down at him with a cup of coffee, Joker laughing in his chair and his spar with James. Lastly, he saw Kaidan. It was nothing special, the man was just standing there, looking out at space while leaning against the wall like he usually did.

Shepard reached the next landing only to see a circle of runes on the floor, with a pillar of blue-grey light in its centre. The light seemed like a living entity. Wisps of light moved around and pulsed in a steady rhythm. For a moment, the light was brighter and then returned to its usual state.

A pebble flew out from the light and bounced a few times before it lay still in front of Shepard.

"Yeah, now things have gone from weird to fucking weird," he said out loud.

Another pebble followed soon after and landed near the first one.

Out of curiosity, Shepard walked towards the pillar of light. He shielded his eyes from the intensity, but it was useless as he soon found himself consumed by the light.

**XxxxX**

Timothy "Worthy" O'Hara was a quiet man, of average height, not overweight, but not in the best of shape either. Not like he was a few years back, before he quite his career as an Auror and turned to being an Unspeakable instead. He often missed the excitement, but he was content with his newfound life of study.

The Ministry of Magic was busy, as it was all other six days of the week. Timothy chalked it up to the upcoming Tri Wizard Tournament, and the Quidditch World Cup which was even sooner. Coupled with the case of escaped, extremely dangerous convict had everyone on edge. He briskly walked through the throngs of witches and wizards and quickly squeezed himself in to an elevator. None of it was his business; he didn't get paid to care about the trivial matters of everyday life. No, he was an Unspeakable who conducted studies and experiments of the hush-hush nature.

Timothy was the last to leave the once over occupied elevator. He stepped out and looked around at the black walls with a smile, a smile that quickly disappeared as he walked on and heard that distinct, chirpy voice and saw a grotesque form of pink. He quickly turned on his heel to disappear into another hallway, but he was too slow.

"Hem hem, Mister O'Hara," Umbridge called daintily.

Out of the toad's sight, Timothy slowly curled his hand into a fist in front of his face. He quickly turned around, his trench coat floundering about him in a dramatic sweep.

"Ah, Undersecretary Umbridge," he said cheerfully. "I didn't see you."

"Yes, well," Umbridge said while she inspected him. "I see you have done nothing about your appearance, Mister O'Hara."

Timothy sighed and carded a hand through his long red hair. He knew his stubble now was halfway to being a pathetic excuse for a beard and his clothes were probably wrinkled or hanging off his body like rags.

"Now, Undersecretary Umbridge, I thought we have been over this," Timothy said slowly. "I am an Unspeakable. I have more important things to do than visiting a barber. Besides, we don't have a regulatory dress code, ma'am."

Umbridge smoothed out an imaginary crease on her arm as she spoke. "Which will soon be rectified, I can assure you. We cannot have ruffians giving the Ministry a bad image, now can we?"

Timothy had now reached the top of his tolerance level for Umbridge for the day. He stood a bit straighter and looked down at the short woman. "Good luck with that, Undersecretary."

He walked past Umbridge, ignoring her as she tried to call him back. Timothy nearly ran to his office, which only other Unspeakables and high ranked officials and dignitaries (anyone besides Umbridge) were allowed to enter. He closed the door behind him and hung up his trench coat before he sank into his chair behind desk.

The desk was cluttered with notes, books and various other paraphernalia related to his research. Timothy took out his wand and with a swift motion of his wrist, the research notes and books levitated in the air before him. Working on several projects at once was tiring, but his main focus was the study of death, specifically the Veil in the Chamber of Death. However, even among other Unspeakables, his research was seen as secondary, something that could be put off so that his skills could be used in something more 'practical'.

"Worthy?" a voice called from the other side of his door.

Timothy sighed. He had really hoped to at least review his note from a month ago. He sorely wanted to just spend the whole day probing at the Veil, but recently, he had to be content with using his thirty minute lunch break to study the Veil. He laid his head on the desk and folded his arms over his red-haired head.

"Come in," he mumbled with his face pressed to the cool wood of his desk.

A young woman with short brown hair, almond shaped blue eyes, a cute button nose and a heart-shaped face poked her head from the behind the partially open door.

"Hello, Amelia," Timothy greeted with a partial wave of his hand.

"What are you doing, Tim?" she asked as she stepped into his office.

"Meditating," was the curt, muffled reply.

"Uh-huh," Amelia mumbled, unconvinced. "Well, Maxwell and I need your help." When she saw he was not going to move, she sighed. "C'mon, we need you Auror expertise and that gorgeous brain of yours."

"Fine," Timothy grumbled, sitting up, "but I want an extended lunch break for this."

He got up, pulling on a black robe and followed the younger Unspeakable to her research platforms. Timothy stayed there for a good seven hours before he decided to take his lunch break. He made a quick stop at his office for his lunch and then headed for the Chamber of Death.

Timothy sat there a few metres away from the Veil, eating his sandwich. He grabbed a pebble from the bag beside him and threw it at the Veil. As usual, the pebble was suspended in the air for a moment before it disappeared.

This time, however, there was a faint discolouration to the mists in the Veil after the pebble disappeared. Startled by this new development, Timothy took a bite of his sandwich and threw another pebble. The same thing occurred, only brighter and the discolouration had a blue tint to it.

A frown formed on Timothy's face. The Veil had never done anything like that before, at least, not while he was studying it. Not for the first time (certainly not the last) he wished that whoever had studied the Veil before him had left their notes for him. It would have made life so much easier for him. Then again, the last Unspeakable to study the Veil had mysteriously disappeared eighteen years ago and no-one would tell him who it had been.

Out of boredom and curiosity Timothy threw another pebble, but nothing happened. He felt disappointed, but ever since he had started working on the Veil, disappointment was something he experienced quite frequently.

Timothy returned to his eating when the Veil suddenly lit up and a mas shrouded by the Veil's mists was thrown from it. His Auror training kicked in as he jumped up, throwing his sandwich aside to pull out his wand. He watched cautiously as the mass of grey mists rolled and then lay still, the grey mists slowly evaporating. He silently walked closer; keeping an eye on the Veil to make sure it didn't throw anything else back at him and on eye on the grey mass.

The mists evaporated completely and revealed a boy dressed in the strangest, bloodied and damaged armour that was obviously too big for him. Timothy lowered his wand, knelt beside the boy and gently turned him over onto his back.

Timothy looked over the boy's face –who couldn't have been older than seventeen– taking in his features - the unkempt dark blonde hair, strong jaw, refined cheekbones and a nose that had definitely been broken a few times. The Unspeakable's attention however, was on the right side of the boy's face by the crude, deep cut running diagonally from the boy's cheek down to his jaw. It would definitely scar, no matter who many potions or spells were going to be applied to it.

It was difficult for Timothy to handle the boy while he wore that oversized armour, but the man had no idea how to remove it, so he left it for now. There were more important matters. They boy had come from beyond the Veil. He felt giddy with that knowledge. He could only imagine –and hope– what his boy could tell him.

"Hey kid," Timothy called, "you alive?"

There was no reply, so Timothy put a finger under the boy's nose and on his lips and felt the boy's breathe. The Unspeakable breathed a sigh of relief, he did not know what he would have done if the boy had been dead. Wait, he did know. It involved a lot of paperwork.

Timothy looked down at the boy and saw that his eyes were open, and a rare grey colour. Before the man could say or do anything, a blue glow surrounded the boy. The boy thrust his hand up at the Unspeakable and the man was sent flying backwards.

Timothy landed heavily on his back, winded. He recovered quickly however and sprang to his feet. He had expected the boy to attack him again, but saw him cradling his head and whimpering in pain with blood streaming from his nose.

The Unspeakable slowly walked closer to the strange boy, who shuffled backwards as he saw the man approach. Timothy held his hands up in an unthreatening manner, but he could still see the boy did not trust him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The boy eyed the Unspeakable. He moved his jaw and stopped as he felt pain from the gash on his face. Timothy saw disbelief in the boy's grey eyes as he slowly reached up and gently touched the wound with the tips of his gloved fingers. The boy looked at the blood on his fingers with disbelief.

Timothy crouched down a few metres away from the boy, just observing him. It was what he would do when he was an Auror. Observe the target, get to know as much about them before you stuck. This boy was not a dark wizard, but he certainly dangerous if that earlier display was anything to go by. The Unspeakable cocked his head to the side as the boy started to look over himself with that same sheer disbelief.

"Where am I?" the boy whispered, looking up at Timothy.

"Uh…" The Unspeakable didn't know how he should answer that question. A simple 'you safe here' would be inadequate and likely untrue. "You're in the Ministry of Magic, in London."

The boy frowned at Timothy. "Does it look like I'm high on Hallex?"

"What?" the Unspeakable asked.

"London was half destroyed during the Reaper invasion!" the boy shouted. "Now, where am I and who the fuck are you?"

"For Merlin's sake boy, what are you talking about?" Timothy asked, slowly moving closer. "You're currently in the Department of Mysteries and… you actually fell through the Veil."

The boy looked over to where the man was pointing. "Almost looks like a mass rely. Wait, what year is it?"

"Well, the date is 30th May 1994. Why?"

The boy seemed to go pale and looked down, running a hand through his hair, mumbling to himself in a language that the Unspeakable didn't understand.

"Hey," Timothy half whispered, "can you tell me your name? Mine's Timothy O'Hara."

The boy looked up. "Shepard. Commander Tyr Shepard."

**And that's the prologue. Now, I know my grammar and tense is not perfect, so there will be a few minor mistakes and I never seem to find them, so please forgive me for that, but I hoped you enjoyed the prologue nonetheless. **

**This story is currently not my main project, but I will try and update as frequently as I can. I'd really like to hear what you guys think of this crazy idea of mine. **

**See you all later! **


	2. Little by Little

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mass Effect trilogy or the Harry Potter series, each belongs to their respective owners and I do not profit from this in any way. I do, however, own all original characters and places. **

**Title: Fallen Star**

**Author: Torulfr**

**Summary: Shepard had expected his afterlife to be a peaceful place, but it that was not what he found. Instead, he awoke in a dark room surrounded by strangers, stuck in a teenager's body, in 1994 and told that magic exists. Can Shepard learn how to survive as fate throws him into the thick of things? Slash.**

**A/N: This was meant to be up sooner, but I got sick and then discovered the addiction called Adventure Time. Ok, you can stop laughing now. I want to thank babymitten and Guest for their reviews and everyone that subscribed to this story. **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter 01: Little by Little**

On top of saving the universe, dying and travelling through some sort of halfway house of the dead, Shepard found himself in some dark stone room with a strange man dressed in a long coat-like getup. Seriously? Sure, the hair, accent and name were all typical of someone that would have hailed from Ireland, but seriously? The first person he sees after a death experience was this guy? Okay, it wasn't as if he was ugly or anything, actually, now that he thought about it, the man was handsome, in a rugged masculine sort of way.

A sharp pain reverberated through his skull and brutally brought Shepard back to reality. Grinding his teeth, he pressed his hands to his temples, pulling at his hair. The pain was making him feel more confused than he already was and the fact that Timothy was just perched there, staring at him was not helping.

Something must have happened to his implant, but it seemed that it was the least of his worries. After he had gained consciousness, the first thing Shepard had seen was the red-haired man and he had thrown the man back with a flare of biotic power and the pain ensued. What he found more troubling, was the fresh wound on his face. It was identical to the one he had received on Mindoir. It had served as a testament that he had survived and that he would continue to do so, but it was fixed when Cerberus rebuilt him.

Shepard's body was also a concern. It was not as if there were any major injuries, just cuts and bruises, but it just felt weird to him. He felt smaller, lighter somehow. He could feel that his armour was like a loose shell around him, which was strange considering that the armour was made specifically to fit his body measurements. The only thing that sat right was the skin-tight bio-steel suit that was worn underneath the armour.

Shepard had looked to the strange structure behind the red-haired man with a frown. It looked a primitive mass relay, and he shocked that he had voiced that thought out loud, but quickly reverted it with another question.

"What year is it?" he asked randomly.

"Well, the date is 30th May 1994. Why?" the man asked in return.

Shepard could not believe his ears. 1994? It was impossible, yet, here he was with this stranger in front of him saying it to his face. In Shepard's mind there were three explanations for it: one, the man was delusional and had escaped from a metal institution. Two, he himself was delusional and was unknowingly sitting in a nice padded cell. Three, the man was telling the truth. Shepard was too busy digesting the information to realise that he was voicing his thoughts in the Prothean language, something that happened often after he had acquired the Cipher.

"Hey," the man half whispered, "can you tell me your name? Mine's Timothy O'Hara."

Instinctively he answered the question. "Shepard. Commander Tyr Shepard."

Shepard saw the confusion in Timothy's face. In his opinion, the man looked how he felt, utterly confused.

"Commander?" Timothy asked, testing the word.

"You have to have heard of the term," Shepard huffed, his patience wearing thin. "It's a military rank, specifically for Navy Marines."

All he got in return from Timothy was a scowl. Shepard could have shaken his head if it didn't hurt so much. He knew for a fact, even if his human history was halfway to pathetic, that even in 1994 there were established ranks across all military systems. Timothy's lack of military understanding would have been understandable if he was a civilian, but Shepard got a feeling that the man came from some sort of military background. It was all in the man's poise and reactions –cautious and controlled.

"It does sound familiar," Timothy said.

"How about this," Shepard started, "what do you do?"

"Uh… I'm an Unspeakable with the Department of Mysteries," Timothy stated.

Shepard stared at the man with a dumb expression. That didn't help him at all. He had no idea what an Unspeakable was, much less the 'Department of Mysteries', but he could take a good guess as to what that one was. They were back to square one then.

"Okay," Shepard sighed. "Let's see, all the strange terms I've learnt so far: Ministry of Magic –which happens to be in London– your Unspeakable career and the Department of Mysteries. I've definitely lost my marbles. Next there'll be talking toads!"

"Mr O'Hara!" shrieked a voice.

Timothy's expression fell at the sound. "You aren't all too far off that last part kid," he confessed in a hushed voice.

"Mr O'Hara," the voice called again, "we just detected an unauthorized mass of magical energy coming from this room."

Shepard didn't really want to have to move to see who was talking, but judging from the voice alone, the person sounded annoying, like Udina. He hated that man. Damn politicians.

Sharp clacks of heels echoed throughout the room and Shepard saw a large mass of pink and not the nice shade either. It was the blinding fuchsia shade. The woman stopped in her tracks as she saw Shepard and stood gaping at him before regaining her composure and turned her attention to Timothy.

"Who or what is that?" the woman asked. "Well?"

"Uh…"

Shepard got the feeling the man liked to start his sentences like that.

"Well, Undersecretary he's human and his name is Tyr Shepard," Timothy said, obviously not knowing what to tell the woman.

The woman got a pinched looked in her face and quickly looked back at Shepard with a disbelieving look in her eyes. With nothing else to do, he stared right back at the woman with a blank face.

"Don't be absurd, Mister O'Hara. Your experiments with the Veil have once again caused a stir and now this poor, helpless boy is stuck here." she rasped in her high-pitched voice.

Timothy frowned and glared at the woman. He stood up, half blocking Shepard's view of the woman.

"Actually my psychiatric report says I'm rather sound of mind," Timothy said. "In fact, I was not conducting experiments on the Veil at all today or for the last month in fact. You can check with Amelia and Maxwell. I was sitting here and then this boy just fell out the Veil!"

The woman was about to say something, Timothy continued talking.

"If you want more proof, just look at the boy. Look at his wounds and that armour. Look in his eyes, Umbridge! He's confused and in pain." Timothy turned his head and looked at Shepard for a moment.

Shepard wondered why the man was so willing to defend him. He looked past the Unspeakable and to the woman, whose face was red.

"Enough!" she shouted. "He is just some boy who got pulled along through your experiments or a prankster. You will not mention that name again."

"I think I know my own name!" Shepard said with a stern voice. "It's kind of a family thing, you know, to inherit the surname from the parents, specifically the father. Mine happened to be Samuel Shepard."

The woman turned red in the face. "Don't you dare say that name young man! Timothy, I want you to detain him and bring him down for questioning."

"Oooh," Shepard mocked, but winced at another sharp spike of pain from his implant.

"Undersecretary Umbridge, with all due respect, I'm not an Auror anymore and I do believe the boy should be taken for medical treatment first," Timothy said.

"Yes, you were an Auror, one of our best. You should be able to handle a single child. Now, I _order _you to detain this young man and bring him up for questioning."

Shepard felt a childish urge to stick his tongue out at the Umbridge woman and he had no idea where that urge came from. It might have been from the fact that he was being blatantly ignored and spoken about, as if he was some sort of snort nosed kid! Last time he checked, being at the age of thirty-one hardly made him a child. It was almost halfway to old.

"Hello," Shepard called out quirkily, "don't I get a say? I want to know a few things."

"Mr O'Hara, detain him before I ask someone else to do it," Umbridge said before leaving.

Shepard watched her leave and then looked to Timothy, who was still standing in the same place; looking out to that strange structure they called the Veil. The Unspeakable sighed and turned to Shepard, walking up to him and offered a hand.

"Toad thinks she can order me round like I'm still with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You think you can stand?" Timothy asked as he held out his hand.

"Yeah," Shepard said, accepting the hand. He was pulled up to his feet. "Thanks."

Shepard frowned. Now that he was on his own two feet, he looked right into Timothy's chest. Unless the man was freakishly tall, he didn't know how to explain it. He was rather tall, but he had been a late bloomer. Throughout his childhood and teenage years, he had been shorter than all of the other boys, until he turned eighteen. But, he still didn't want to listen to the fact that both Timothy and Umbridge called him a child. All the cards were on the table, but Shepard was not looking. In his mind it was just impossible.

Timothy gently laid a hand on Shepard's shoulder and guided him out the room and into a dark hallway.

"Tim!"

Timothy sighed. "Not now Amelia."

A pretty young woman came up to them dressed in similar strange clothes to Timothy, but Shepard didn't care. He just wanted to sit down, take some aspirin for his migraine, maybe take a nap and wake up to find himself in a hospital room on Earth. Anderson would be there, telling him he defeated the Reapers. The whole Normandy crew would come and try to bust him out of hospital because like Garrus had said, there would always be something after the Reapers to save the galaxy from. Kaidan would be there too, but he would whisk Shepard away to some quiet place in Canada, maybe that family house in the mountains he talked about. Yes, that would have been nice. He was so caught up in his little fantasy that he ignored whatever Timothy and Amelia were talking about. All he knew was that he was obviously the topic of discussion.

"Hey," Timothy said softly, shaking Shepard's shoulder gently. "I think that between Amelia and I, we can patch you up, if you'll let her come up with us to the grilling – uh… questioning room."

Shepard didn't react, he merely nodded. He was tired and he wished more than anything that if he did fall asleep that he would wake up in a hospital room. The Anderson part was unrealistic and he didn't know what happened to the crew of the Normandy after he went in to the Citadel, but he liked a being somewhat of a romantic dreamer.

Shepard followed the two Unspeakables through what seemed more like a maze rather than corridors. He soon stopped trying to make heads or tails out of the place, as each corridor looked identical to the next and just followed silently, listening to the other two speak amongst themselves.

They finally got to an elevator and Shepard frowned. It looked old, and not just old but the unsafe kind of old. Timothy however, pushed him forward. Shepard wound up standing near the back with both Unspeakables on either side of him. It kind of felt like he was back at the Alliance HQ in Vancouver, he had to be escorted everywhere.

"So," Amelia started, looking over to Shepard, "where you from sweet cheeks? As much as I want to believe _Worthy _over here, I just want to hear it from you."

Shepard thought long and hard before he answered. If this all happened to be real and not some immaculate fabrication produced by his subconscious, then he would not just blurt out he was from Mindoir, a colony in outer space. If it all turned out to be a crazy dream, then he would request that all doctors that had conducted his psych evaluation be stripped of their medical licenses.

"The country," he answered cryptically. He was hoping she would leave it at that.

"Timothy," Amelia said, "you're the smart one, what is he trying to tell us?"

The man sighed and let his head fall back so that he was staring at the ceiling. "What house were you in when you went to the Salem Witches Institute? Just because I was in Ravenclaw at school does not mean I have to think for you all the time."

"Witches?" Shepard asked sceptically.

Timothy stopped glaring at Amelia and looked at Shepard instead. "Uh… I thought we got over this back in the Chamber."

"No, because I was still under the impression that I was stuck in a dream created by my subconscious. I think I got hit pretty hard in the head with something, not too sure. Now, I don't know if this is a dream or reality."

"Merlin's beard," Timothy said. "Look, we can't talk about this now especially if–"

The elevator chimed and a red-haired man walked in.

"Ah, Percy!" Timothy greeted. "It's good to see you. I hope you like working with Mr Crouch."

"I could not ask for a better post. Working with Mr Crouch in the Department of International Magical Co-operation is great. Did you know that the majority of cauldron leakages in Britain are caused by imported cauldrons that are thinner at the bottom? I suppose Mr Crouch will want me to work on the matter. It's all very exciting."

Shepard sniggered. He couldn't help it. The guy, named Percy no less, was such a brownnoser. The redhead looked in his direction with a disapproving glare. He imagined he looked just wonderful with drying blood all over his face and damaged armour.

"I imagine this is Unspeakable business?" Percy asked prudently.

"Yip!" Amelia confirmed with a broad smile.

Percy turned back around, minding his own business. The elevator stopped and a voice announced their destination: The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Shepard wondered if the place would look like the Spectre Requisitions office, just minus all the cables, metal interior, monitors, shooting range, aliens… actually, it would look nothing like the Spectre Requisitions office.

All four of them got out, but Percy darted away in another direction. No, the place looked nothing like the Spectre office. It was busy. Shepard looked at the flying paper airplanes flew past. It was the kind of thing people saw after taking Red Sand, but not that he would know that. He was a biotic and one of assignments he had while training was to lift and suspend a paper airplane without shredding into confetti.

Timothy pulled Shepard along, letting him stare all he wanted. They walked quite a distance before the Unspeakable stopped and opened a door. It was sparse, save for a pot plant, a table and two chairs. It didn't look as intimidating as what Timothy had made it out to be by calling it the grilling room. Shepard reasoned that maybe it was jargon term.

"Take a seat," Timothy said, flicking his wand, changing the pot plant into a chair.

Shepard didn't even want to know the physics, or lack thereof, behind what the man just did, but he sat down anyway. Timothy pulled up a chair and sat in front of him, while Amelia did the same.

"Can you take off some of this… armour so we can check you for more wounds?" Amelia asked kindly.

Shepard sighed, but complied, unstrapping and unbuckling what was left of his armour. The floor was soon clattered with various pieces of armour, even Shepard's leg graves and boots. He unzipped his under armour suit, pulling it off his arms and down to his waist. He immediately noticed that his muscle tone was significantly less. He was toned and not a bulk of muscle like he remembered. The only time he remembered being like this was when he was sixteen. A time when he only need to be fit enough to pass the fitness part of his karate grading.

Timothy closely examined the lacerations scattered across Shepard's arms and chest, while Amelia pulled out a small tub from a pocket in her robes. Amelia also took out a cloth and wet it by a gentle spurt of water from the tips of her wand. She gently wiped off the dried blood on Shepard's face, taking care not to jar the gash on his cheek too much.

"Uh… Amelia" Timothy said with a nervous smile. "Could you do the Dittany spell?"

"Why? I know you're hand and wand are in perfect condition, so you do it."

"That's not the problem," he said. "My wand is made from aspen – good for Charms and such, but not Healing magic. Unless, you want to sit here for the rest of the day healing scratches, never mind that gash on his face. Besides," he continued, "your wand is made from birch, and it excels at Healing!"

"Fine, but rub this Murtlap Essence cream on his cut and bruises," Amelia ordered.

Shepard got rather nervous as Amelia pointed her wand at him, but she smiled reassuringly. A light came from the tip of her wand and he felt a sort of tingling, warm sensation. It was weird in his opinion. He jerked slightly when Timothy applied cold, yellow goo to his ribs. It looked like alien blood.

Once the gash on his face was shallow and the bruises were covered, Shepard started to feel drowsy. However, a vial was pushed under his nose.

"Drink up handsome," Amelia said with a smile. "Don't worry, it's a Pepper-Up Potion. It will help keep you awake when the Ministry officials and Aurors come for questioning. You should only take a sip though."

Shepard took the vial and sipped at the 'potion'. It tasted horrible, but within a few moments, he did start to feel more alert. He sat up, but winced when Timothy started to apply some of that yellow goo to the gash on his face.

"Sorry lad," the Unspeakable apologised. "Now that you're all dolled up, got any questions?"

Shepard looked at Timothy with a straight face. "Yeah, this whole magic business would be a good place to start."

"Uh…"

With a roll of his eyes, Shepard looked to Amelia, who smiled and started to explain. He listened attentively. Timothy also chipped in every now and then, but he left much of talking to Amelia, who loved running her mouth. Shepard had to admit, he was fascinated. There was an entire secret community of magical folk and creatures. But, it did raise other questions to mind, ones that Shepard wasn't sure he wanted to ask yet.

Shepard jumped slightly when the door opened. He wanted to think that it was the potion that was making him skittish, and not the fact that he was stuck in the middle of a building filled with people who could incinerate him with a flick of a twig.

A number of people walked in. Shepard wanted to laugh. When he was branded a 'traitor' after he had been rebuilt by Cerberus, the Council did not even bother to see him in person, just holographic projections. He was just their tool anyway, as long as followed the rules and didn't go rouge, they didn't bother him. Now, however, he was being cross-examined by everyone who had come into the room, not something he was unfamiliar with, but he didn't like being around such a large group of people when he was off duty or out of his uniform.

Timothy stood up and nodded to woman with a square jaw and closely cropped grey hair. Shepard frowned at her appearance, especially the monocle over her right eye. She looked like a serious person.

"Madam Bones," Timothy started, "I know that this case does require an in-depth investigation, I would like to request that it remains strictly with the Department of Mysteries."

"That is unacceptable," Umbridge called from the back.

"Not entirely," Ms Bones said. "Mr O'Hara has the right to make such a request. The Unspeakables do handle their own business, without the interference from other Departments, but I must also make a request."

Timothy nodded. Shepard saw that the man had a great deal of respect for the older woman.

"I want an unprejudiced member to question the boy, to which we will all be present, and then I will determine if the boy will stay with you or not," Ms Bones said stately.

Shepard could not help but like her. He wondered about what sort of questioning he would be subjected to though. With a cold chill running down his spine, Shepard realised that he was now thinking that all of this was real. If it did turn out to be, then he would have to come clean and tell this Auror person where he really came from and how he got to where he was now. Jokingly, Shepard wondered if there was a wizard equivalent for an asylum.

Ms Bones turned around. "Get me Kingsley Shacklebolt."

The room was silent. Shepard could almost taste the tension in the air. He didn't know what to do and he was scared just because of that. There were only a handful of times Shepard had never known what to do and most of them had been before near-death experiences.

The door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered black man walked in. Timothy and Amelia moved their chairs away, but not before giving Shepard a respective smile and pat on the shoulder. Ms Bones spoke to Kingsley, explaining the situation to the man. He nodded and proceeded to sit on the table beside Shepard.

"Hello, my name is Kingsley Shacklbolt," he said, "and I'll be asking you a few questions."

Shepard merely nodded, not saying anything.

"Alright, what is your name, full name, please."

"Tyr Logan Shepard."

There was a low murmur in the room, but both Kingsley and Shepard ignored it.

"Good," the man said. "Now, what was the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"I…"

The door opened and an old man dressed in vibrant robes with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles stepped in, accompanied by a tall, dark haired, black robed man.

"Ah, just in time I see," the old man said.

"Professor Dumbledore," Ms Bones said, "what are you doing here?"

"Well, it is a rather curious tale. I was sitting in my office, having tea with Minerva, checking over the list for the new first years when a name appeared. A name I had not expected to see, Tyr Shepard."

"That is not a valid reason for any involvement on your part," Umbridge said.

"On the contrary, it is Severus who should be involved," Dumbledore said. "He is after all, the boy's godfather."

Shepard's eyes widened at that and stared at the stranger. He was sure that the old man was mental. It should be impossible for him to have a godfather 192 years in the past. He wasn't even listening anymore, his head hurt too much and no-one was really paying him attention, except Kingsley, they were all asking Dumbledore questions.

"How did you come to be the boy's godfather, Professor Snape?" Kingsley asked.

Shepard liked Kingsley. He seemed to be a to-the-point kind of person and was asking the question that was weighing on Shepard's mind.

Snape looked like he was reluctant to give them any information on the subject, but a look from Dumbledore got him talking.

"When I was a student was Hogwarts, I made friends with Samuel Shepard and his sister Samantha. The two of them were three years older than I was and when he graduated, he married Hannah MacFusty and asked if I would be the godfather of any children they had."

The room was silent, waiting for Snape to continue.

"As you all know, two years later the entire Shepard family disappeared, even those married into other families, but not their children or spouses." Snape looked at Shepard and then to the rest of the room. "I know many of you suspected it was the work of the Dark Lord, but know for certain he was not involved with their disappearance."

"Madame Bones," Kingsley said, "his explanation seems consistent. Both Severus and Samuel were in Slytherin and when Samuel worked here, he did mention him to me on more than one occasion. Now, if there are no further questions for Professor Snape, I would like to continue questioning the boy."

Kingsley turned back to Shepard. "When and where were you born?"

"I was born on Mindoir, on the 08th July, 2154."

The occupants of the room started talking loudly, but Kingsley silenced them. "What about your parents?"

"My father died when I was four years old," Shepard said. "My mother was a botanist and she died when I was sixteen during the raid on Mindoir. I was the only one that got out alive."

"What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

Shepard paused before he answered. "I… I died. I have been trying to deny that the whole time, but I died on the Citadel."

Kingsley did not comment, but motioned for Shepard to elaborate.

"I was on the Citadel, a space station, trying to find a way to defeat the Reapers. Reapers… are a race of sentient machines who harvest all intelligent life every fifty thousand years. We managed to find plans of weapon to destroy them and found the missing piece on the Citadel, where I was given the choice to either control or destroy them. I destroyed them. They had killed billions of people."

Shepard could see the disbelieving faces, but he didn't care.

"IS there a way you can prove this?" Kingsley asked. "You look about sixteen, and it seems unlikely for a boy to accomplish all that."

Shepard laughed. "I suppose I can prove it and I was 31 when I died. I would think that I'm about sixteen now, if my injuries are anything to go by?"

"Why is that?"

"Because, these are the same injuries I got when the slavers raided Mindoir when I was sixteen."

Kingsley nodded. "Now, can you prove any of this?"

With a sigh, Shepard lifted his arm and activated his omni-tool. The adults in the room gasped and whispered. Ignoring them, he brought up the holographic projection of the galaxy that Liara had given to him. The room was littered with stars and systems. Out of habit, Shepard immediately looked of the Sol System and smiled.

"There's us," he pointed.

The witches and wizards looked around them in awe, all except for Umbridge.

"This does not prove anything!" she said sharply.

Tyr rolled his eyes and opened another application. Various screens popped up, most of them displayed charts but some played mission footage. He looked and selected all the footage he had of Earth and Thessia during the Reaper invasion.

"Actually," Ms Bones said, "it proves everything this boy has said. He will remain under the protection of the Department of Mysteries and specifically, Unspeakable Timothy O'Hara."

The woman turned to Dumbledore and Snape. "If you can prove your status as the legal guardian of this boy, then you shall yet full custody, but in the meantime, I want him somewhere peaceful and out of sight from the magical community."

"May I recommend someone?" Dumbledore asked.

Ms Bones nodded.

"Since he is to be attending Hogwarts, may I suggest he stay with Arthur Weasley until the matter of his guardianship is resolved."

Ms Bones thought over it for a moment and then looked to Timothy. "He's your case, where do you want to put him?"

Timothy looked down at Shepard. "I think Mr Weasley is a good choice, but I want Tyr to meet him first and see if he will be comfortable living with them for a while."

Ms Bones nodded and sent someone to find Mr Weasley.

Shepard turned off the projection and yawned. He was starting to feel tired again. Amelia and Timothy sat by him again and the woman pulled out a small yellow carton from her robes.

"Hot candy?" she asked.

"Oh no," Timothy protested, "you are not going to get him addicted to the stuff as well."

Amelia smiled and shook the box and two round red balls popped into her hand. She offered it to Shepard, who took one and put it in his mouth. At first, nothing happened, but when he moved it around, a strong taste of spices and cinnamon flooded his mouth.

Shepard smiled at her. If he was going to be around Timothy and Amelia, and if this Mr Weasley turned out all right, then adapting to his new life wouldn't be so bad.

**And there you go the first chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it. It might be a bit boring, but I needed to lay the ground work. Things will pick up from the next chapter or two. I hope the OCs aren't a problem, because there will be a few of them, but Timothy and a few others will play a big role in this story. Now, you don't readily get hot candy where I live and I stumbled upon them in a candy store that imports all their goods from overseas and I must say I'm quite hooked on hot candy.**

**I'd really like to know what you guys think of this, even if it's just one word like "Bleh!" then at least I know how you guys feel about this, but no flames. **

**Oh, and I will start calling Shepard Tyr from the next chapter because it's this whole mind perception were he now views himself as a teenager and no longer Commander Shepard. **

**See you all later. **


	3. Fireflies

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mass Effect trilogy or the Harry Potter series, each belongs to their respective owners and I do not profit from this in any way. I do, however, own all original characters and places. I don't own, The Dawn Attack by Brain, nor Hammer Head by Dale Brown. I'm just using them a bit. **

**Title: Fallen Star**

**Author: Torulfr**

**Summary: Shepard had expected his afterlife to be a peaceful place, but it that was not what he found. Instead, he awoke in a dark room surrounded by strangers, stuck in a teenager's body, in 1994 and told that magic exists. Can Shepard learn how to survive as fate throws him into the thick of things? Slash.**

**A/N: Hello everyone. Well, here is the second chapter, but I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 02: Fireflies **

Most of the Ministry officials had filed out of the room and Ms Bones, Dumbledore and Snape were waiting for Mr Weasley outside while Amelia and Kingsley remained with Tyr. The Unspeakable went to sit next to the teenager again, smiling at him.

Tyr sat there for a moment and just let his mind go blank. It hurt too much for him to think at the moment. Amelia watched him carefully, as did Kingsley. It was then, that she noticed the tags around Tyr's neck.

"So," she started, "Tim tells me you are or were a commander in the Marines." She waited for Tyr to say something, but he remained silent. "You know, I would love to take you out to a shooting range some time and see if you keep those pretty stars and stripes."

Tyr frowned at her. "I thought you were a witch."

"I am," Amelia said. "I'm a muggleborn, a witch or wizard born to muggles, non-magical folk. My dad and granddad were both in the military. Granpaps fought in World War II in the Royal Air Force and Paps as a paratrooper with the American Army in Vietnam."

Tyr was about to ask her something when his omni-tool started to make a small blinking orb on his hand. A message. It should have been impossible, he was 192 years in the past. The logical part of his mind told him that he must have received the message just before he died.

With shaking fingers, he opened the voice message.

"Shepard." It was Kaidan's voice. "Shepard, you did it! We just got the call from Hackett. All the Reapers just dropped dead. You do know that people will love you now, but give it a few months and they'll start pointing fingers at you because of all the damage."

Tyr smiled. It was good to hear Kaidan laugh.

"By the way," Kaidan said in a seductive manner, "I found something under the bed a few nights ago. It was by accident I swear, but I still want to see you get down on one knee and all that. Just come home Shep."

Tyr closed his eyes and wrapped a hand around his tags. He knew there were other people in the room, but he couldn't care less. _Just come home Shep. _ Home. The Normandy, Kaidan, they were his home. He opened his hand and saw a sterling silver cross and a white gold ring peeking out from behind the dog tags. He couldn't go home.

Amelia had watched with rapt attention, fascinated by that orange glove and the boy himself. She almost gasped when she saw the ring and cross resting in Tyr's palm.

"Well, that had to be one of sexist voices I have ever heard," Amelia said with a suggestive wag of her eyebrows.

"And who has first place?" Tyr asking jokingly.

Amelia blushed for a moment, before smiling. "A lady has her secrets. Who was that?"

Tyr's smile dropped immediately now that he was reminded of the message he had just listened to. "That was Kaidan. Major Kaidan Alenko."

"Major? You aim high, don't you?"

Tyr felt a small smile tug at his lips. "He was a lieutenant when I first met him six years ago. He rose in rank while I was… away."

"You were 31 before you came here, right?" Amelia asked. "What did you do with your life, apart from what you've told Tim and Madam Bones."

"Yeah, and turning on 32. I had a long, crammed life; let's see, I was orphaned at 16, got my whole squad killed at 25, saved the Galaxy, turned 28 and then suddenly woke up to find two years gone, saved the entire human population for getting harvested, got incarcerated for 6 months, stopped the reaper invasion and died. Fun times."

Amelia was staring to think that sarcasm was part of the wall Tyr was building around himself. She also got a feeling that what he just said was the dumbed down, nutshell version and it only made her all the more curious. "Fine, it's a touchy subject. How about you tell me how that orange thing of yours works."

"This?" Tyr made a motion with his left and the omni-tool lit up again. "It's all just projected from a band I wear round my wrist. It runs on its own batteries and a computer chip."

Amelia stared at Tyr's wrist. "If it runs on electronics, it should have blown up the moment you were spat out of the Veil!"

"Uh… why?"

"Because!" Amelia ran a hand through her hair. "That's just what happens when anything electronic is around or comes into contact with magic. Boom." She imitated an explosion with puffed out cheeks. "The only way this tool thing of yours can be work is if it's enchanted somehow."

"I don't think its enchanted," Tyr said with an eyebrow raised. He had to admit, she was doing a fantastic job at keeping mind distracted from the message. "Tali would have picked up on that every time she changed over the chips and whatnot into this bracelet casing."

"Why do you say that?" Kingsley asked.

Tyr looked at him. He had forgotten the man was even there. "I've had this casing since I was thirteen, my mother gave it to me and said I should never get a new one, just change over the software inside. See," he lifted his arm, "it's got my initials on it - T.L.S."

Amelia sat there with her arms crossed over her chest and a contemplative look on her face. "Ok, I won't say anything if Kings and you don't. The last thing we need is the Ministry getting wind of this."

Both Kingsley and Tyr nodded in consent.

"Great!" Amelia exclaimed with a large smile. "Now, what's up with all your squinting?"

Tyr didn't even notice he was squinting. He wanted to say his amp was acting up, but he didn't want to want to explain all that at the moment, and coupled with the fact that anything electronic short circuits near magic, he was rather uneasy about there being an amp in the back of his head. "Headache."

The door opened and a balding, red-haired man walked in with a smile on his face. "You must be Tyr."

Tyr nodded, looking at the seemingly friendly man sceptically. "Yes sir."

Timothy walked in and gave Tyr and Amelia a tired smile. "Shepard, this is Mr Weasley. He's agreed to open up his home to you until Professor Snape can prove he is your legal guardian."

Mr Weasley smiled again. "Well, is there anything you want to know before we head over to the Burrow?"

Tyr looked from Mr Weasley, over to Timothy, then Amelia. He liked the two Unspeakables. "Will I still be able to see Amelia and Timothy after this?"

Amelia laughed suddenly and loudly. "You fell out the Veil kid. Tim is going to use you as his pet project from now on. Besides, I still want to see which one of us has the better aim, so of course you'll be seeing us."

"If you really want to, I'm sure it will be fine if Mr O'Hara and Ms Leighton come over for dinner tonight," Mr Weasley said kindly.

Timothy immediately began to protest. "Uh… it's really not-"

"Of course we'd love to come! Homemade food beats takeout!" Amelia said happily, interrupting the older Unspeakable. "C'mon Worthy, I know you've been living off of takeout for the last few months."

Timothy glared at the witch then gave a sigh of resignation. "Thanks Mr Weasley. Will it be ok if Shepard stays with you for the rest of the afternoon. Amelia and I have… research to finish."

"No problem, no problem at all," Mr Weasley said with a smile. "He can even help me with my work."

Tyr stood, zipping up his under armour suit and looked down at his armour scattered about on the floor. Something warm suddenly landed on his shoulders. He looked up and saw Amelia put her black robe, cloak thing on his shoulders.

"Can't have people gawking at you now can we?" she asked playfully.

"Thanks," Tyr said softly. He wasn't used to people, total strangers being this kind to him. No, they always wanted something or expected something great from Commander Shepard, so he was never just himself, just Tyr.

Amelia hugged him and Timothy laid an assuring hand on his shoulder and took all of Tyr's armour before they left him with Mr Weasley.

Mr Weasley smiled and motioned towards the door. "When we get to my office, I'll show you my secret stash of sweets, and let you have some of the muggle clothing we have in storage."

Tyr nodded and followed the man to the elevators. He hugged the robe to his body and let out a heavy sigh. The elevator ride was interesting to say the least. A lot of colourful people got in and out of the elevator, including woman with pink hair and a portly man carrying a box with smoke rising from the air holes. Tyr unconsciously inched closer to the back and behind Mr Weasley. He was completely out of his element here.

Magic, witches, wizards, a secret world and who knew what else. Even though Tyr often went to sleep asking himself why he didn't just take up a peaceful life in the colonies, he now just wanted his old life back, filled with husks, rouge Spectres and aliens back. It was what he was familiar with. But, one thing was the same, everyone always wanted something. They always did. With complete honesty, the only person that had never wanted anything of him was Kasumi and Ashley. Hell, even Tali, Kaidan and Joker had used him to some extent for their own personal gain. He just needed to figure out what Mr Weasley was getting out of this.

"Now, here we are," Mr Weasley said and nudged Tyr out the elevator and down a narrow corridor, with dozens of flying paper planes whizzing past overhead.

Mr Weasley opened a door and motioned for Tyr to follow. The room was filled all kinds of different paraphernalia; telephones, books, radios, magazines, cooldrink cans, batteries and a large assortment of plugs, with a desk near the back stacked with paperwork.

"What do you think?" Mr Weasley asked as he closed the door behind him. "Quite remarkable isn't it?"

Tyr didn't know how to respond to that. Most of the stuff to his mind were beyond ancient. He wondered how much Ms Bones and Timothy had told the man, because when he grew up, there were no plugs or telephones, everything was wireless, sleek, fast and accessible through an omni-tool.

"Now, I know some of this will be as strange to you as they are to me," Mr weasley said, taking boxes off of an old couch and dumping them on the floor. "I know you come from the future, Madam Bones told me that much."

Tyr attempted to smile, but it turned out as a half assed, lopsided grin instead. He sat down on the couch while Mr Weasley fumbled around with things at his desk. With nothing better to do, Tyr peered down into the box that Mr Weasley had put on the floor. It was filled with books.

"Ah, here we go!" Mr Weasley said excitedly. "I'll be right back with some clothes for, but mind they won't fit all that well."

"It's fine sir."

Tyr picked up the first book he could get his hands on as soon as Mr Weasley left. _**Electricity for Dummies**_. Well, he supposed it made sense. Why would wizards use electricity if they had magic, a clean, sustainable source of energy? He smiled and put the book down and picked up another one. _**Plumbing Made Easy for the D.I.Y. Man**_. It was equally useless to him. He knew how both electricity and plumbing worked – to an extent. He continued picking his way through the box, finding books on various subjects, from chemistry to cooking.

When the door opened, it creaked and sent Tyr jumping. He had unconsciously reached to his pistol but found nothing. Mr Weasley came in with an armful of clothes.

"Try these on, they should fit alright." Mr Wealsey handed the bundle of clothes over.

Tyr set the clothes down on the couch and sorted through them carefully. He pulled out a night robe and frowned. "Mr Weasley, sir?"

"Yes?"

"This is a night robe," Tyr said gingerly. "It's worn over pyjamas at night, at home."

"Really?" Mr Weasley asked with a wide-eyed face. "I thought it was a winter cloak."

Tyr didn't comment on that and picked up the next item of clothing – a somewhat large white tank top. That would fit. Next was a pair of baggy, grey sweatpants. Great, he was going to spend the rest of the day looking like a hobo.

"Um…"

Mr Weasley looked up from his desk and with a flick of his wand, a curtain appeared, dividing the room. Tyr quickly changed, and finished by pulling on a pair of takkies and hanging his dog tags over his tank top.

"Thanks, Mr Wealsey," Tyr said, and the curtain disappeared.

"Now, I see you've gotten into the book box," Mr Weasley said without looking up from his paperwork.

"Sorry sir, I was just curious, I'll put them all back."

"Nonsense! Feel free to look around. You have a better head for this stuff than I do." Mr Weasley looked up with a smile. "Maybe you can explain how plugs work when the get to the Burrow."

Tyr nodded, sat down and continued digging through the box. He found a small book, with a dark, faded cover of a soldier and the title: _**The Dawn Attack**_ near the bottom of the box. He turned over the book and read the description. It was a World War II fiction novel. That immediately picked his interest. He sat back and started reading. When he saw the publication date, in his mind he calculated that the book was over a hundred years old, but then remembered that he himself was actually 192 years in the past.

MR Wealsey was about his office, doing this and that and often out to see someone or some other. Tyr hardly noticed. The book had really reeled him in. He was drawing up on the last ninety pages of the book when Mr Weasley came back in and clapped his hands together, making Tyr jump slightly, He had never been this skittish before, not after the first week after the raid on Mindoir.

"And off we go!" Mr Weasley exclaimed happily. He gathered some papers into a bag and then waited at the door. "Oh, you can take the book and others with you; it's all just gibberish to me anyway."

Tyr tucked the book and another titled: _**Hammer Head **_under his arm and scooped up his under suit and Amelia's robe as well. He was on his way to the door when something caught his eye. He quickly grabbed it and folded it into the robes. He quietly followed Mr Weasley until they reached a large open room filled with witches and wizards. He didn't say anything, just kept his head down and followed Mr Wealsey as closely as he could. He looked up when they stopped at what seemed to be a large fireplace.

"We'll be travelling via Floo, so just stand in there next to me and stay still. It may make you feel a bit queasy," Mr Wealsey said.

Tyr did as he was told. Mr Weasley stepped in next to him, holding some powder in his hand.

"The Burrow!"

Tyr was about to panic when green flames blossomed out of thin air, but before he could do anything, a great pulling, and swishing sensation passed over him and in an instant, it was gone again. He stomach churned, even thought it was empty. IT took him a moment to open his eyes and see himself in an entirely different fireplace, looking into a kitchen.

Mr Weasley put a gentle hand on Tyr's shoulder and nudged him forward. A red-haired, portly woman came up to Tyr and enveloped him a hug. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't used to people just hugging him, let alone a complete stranger. It wasn't as if he could just shove the woman off, who he assumed was Mr Weasley's wife, and so he just stood there, waiting for her to let him go.

"Oh, I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Molly Wealsey," she said, letting Tyr go and holding him at arm's length to inspect him. "Much too skinny. What's your name dear?"

"Tyr Shepard, ma'am."

Mrs Weasley smiled. "You can call me Mrs Weasley, 'ma'am' makes me feel older than I am."

Tyr didn't know what to do. He wasn't very experienced at dealing with older women, much less a civilian woman who had no military background whatsoever. For a moment, he remembered Ashley. He hadn't been to her grave yet, and now he never would. He wished he could have met her sisters, because from all the stories Ashley had told about them, they sounded like great women, understanding too.

"Molly, don't be too hard on the boy, he's new to all this," Mr Weasley said as he stepped out of the fireplace and hung his cloak over the back of a chair. "You did get my letter yes?"

"Of course," Mrs Weasley said briskly. "Is it wise to let Severus get the boy? I mean, we have the extra room, he could always stay here!"

Tyr frowned. Was everyone just going to talk about his life like he had no say in anything? Perhaps that was what Mr Weasley was getting out of this, a charity case. He reasoned that that was why he liked Amelia and Timothy, they treated him like an adult and not just in a parenting way, but as the 32 year old he felt and they didn't want anything. A spike of pain rang in his head. It was worse than before, so he couldn't help but frown all the more, close his eyes and put the heel of his palm to his temple.

"I'm sure Severus is more than capable of looking after Tyr. Besides, if he is the boy's legal guardian, there is nothing we can do about it," Mr Weasley said in factual voice. "Now, there must be some of twins' clothes that will fit him better than what he has on now."

With that, Mrs Weasley let the subject slide and left the kitchen. Tyr stared after her and then looked back to Mr Weasley. The man smiled and waved to one of the chairs. He noticed that there were eight chairs, instead of the usual six or four. He sat down in a chair near Mr Weasley at the head of the table.

"Sorry, Molly can be a bit much sometimes," Mr Weasley said apologetically. "Were you an only child growing up?"

Tyr nodded, not really feeling up to conversation.

"Oh dear."

Tyr didn't know if that was said out of concern or just to get him to say something, but he couldn't help but ask. "What?"

"We have seven children, of which four are still living with us now."

"Seven? That's…." He didn't know what to say. Four kids was expensive, hell, he knew one kid was expensive, but seven was completely excessive. He couldn't imagine having six other siblings, wait he could. The Normandy was like a large, inter-species family, with him as the oldest brother, Kaidan the boyfriend everyone liked, Jack and Miranda the brats you wish you weren't related to, Garrus the cool cousin you wish was your brother, Tali the quiet younger sibling that everyone loved, Thane the cool, mysterious uncle no-one talks about, Samara the all-knowing aunt, Grunt the spoilt baby of the family, Joker the laid back middle child, Liara the brainy turned beautiful cousin you never really noticed before and finally, Dr Chakwas as the mother of the horde. He didn't know where to put EDI though, what was she, the dog? No, that didn't seem right.

"Wow," was all Tyr could manage after he imaged what his crew would have looked like as an actual family, the kind you grew up with and couldn't exchange with a receipt.

Mr Weasley laughed. "You seemed like an only child."

"Why?"

"Just the way you were conscious of everything and what belonged to who. In a family as big as this, the saying is, 'what's yours is mine.' Bill, Charlie and Percy will be coming over in just over a month and a half, with Fred, George, Ron and Ginny coming home from school in a month."

"I think I've met Percy," Tyr said, thinking over to his first ride in the elevators. "Red hair, freckles, glasses, loves his job too much?"

Mr Weasley smiled. "Yes, that's Percy. I know that Molly meant well earlier, but if your father trusted Severus enough to make him your Godfather, then I support it. Besides, you seem like the type of person who will get along well with him."

Tyr sat there, wondering over the man he had seen briefly, dark, greasy hair, pale face, hard eyes and dark clothing. All of them were signs of a recluse person with interesting stories to tell. Those were usually the most interesting people in his opinion, well, if Kaidan and Thane were anything to by anyway.

"What does he do?" Tyr asked.

"He's the Potions Master at Hogwarts," Mr Weasley said. "One the most disliked and strictest teachers there. You'll have to learn to like the man, since you be living with him and see him at school."

"School?"

"Oh, we haven't told you have we?" Mr Weasley asked rhetorically. "I'm sure Severus will explain to you when he comes over for the weekend."

Mrs Weasley came in and put the clothes down in front of Tyr. "There you are dear. You're about as tall as the twins, so these should fit. The bathroom is up the stairs and to your left."

Tyr thanked her and put the books and Amelia's robe on the table. He followed her instructions, looking around as he went along. The house was crammed with things, but it didn't seem crowded, but actually quite homey and warm. He found the bathroom with ease and shrugged out of his current clothes and put on the new ones that fit a lot better. Tyr eyed the electric razor he had taken from Mr Weasley's office. He knew it wouldn't work in the house filled with magic, but he really wanted to use it. Perhaps he could ask Amelia to help him.

When Tyr went back to the kitchen, he saw pots, pans and other kitchenware flying about. He didn't scream, no, N7 soldiers did not scream, they stood frozen and stared.

"Don't worry," Mr Weasley said. "They won't do anything. Molly has complete control over them."

Tyr raised an eyebrow as a knife started peeling potatoes. What was wrong with using your hands? If all witches and wizards used magic for everything, then they would all be fat, lazy asses, but he knew that wasn't true from all the different people he had seen at the… what was it? The Ministry of Magic?

Tyr cautiously inched closer to the table and sat down. He picked up _**The Dawn Attack **_and started reading. He was well aware that both Mr and Mrs Weasley were watching him closely. Really, he was from the future, not an entirely different species. Once the book was finished, twenty minutes later, he put the book down.

"Well," Mr Weasley said, unsure of how to start the conversation. "What schooling did you have?"

Tyr frowned. That was a strange question. "Why ask that? You could ask me what the future's like or something like that. Why schooling?"

Mr Wealsey smiled. "I find muggle schooling fascinating, so I can only imagine what yours might be life."

"Ok then. I went to kindergarten, went on to primary school until seventh grade, learnt the basics of everything, English, Galactic Trade tongue, Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Earth History, Galactic History. In high school, I did English, Mathematics, Galactic Trade and History as well as Visual Art. After that… I went and did my Basic Training to become an Alliance Navy Marine."

"Interesting," Mr Weasley said, hanging off of the teenager's every word.

The fireplace suddenly roared with green flames and seconds later, Amelia and a clean-shaven Timothy stood there.

"Come in dears, come in," Mrs Wealsey ushered.

"It smell delicious, Mrs Wealsey," Amelia commented upon stepping into the kitchen.

"Thanks for having us," Timothy said with a polite smile.

The two Unspeakables took a seat; with Amelia right next Tyr and Timothy across form him. Amelia immediately picked up the books and read the blurbs at the back of them.

"You a history buff?" Amelia asked jokingly.

Tyr smiled. Amelia seemed to have that effect on him. "Hardly, but if you ask me anything that happened in say… 100 and 190 years from, I'm your man, but not anything as ancient as World War II."

Amelia mockingly gasped as if it was the scandal of the century. Timothy rolled his eyes and Mr and Mrs Easley looked very confused.

"Don't get the girl start, Shepard," Timothy said. "She'll talk you ear off about World War II until next year."

"Stop with the whole 'Shepard' thing," Amelia said with a slight scowl. "He's a teenage boy, not one of your Auror buddies."

"It's fine," Tyr said in a soft voice. "That's all anyone every called me that or Commander."

"That's exactly why he should stop," Amelia said pointedly, glaring at Timothy, who was lounging back with a cold Butterbeer in his hands.

Mrs Weasley put another bottle of Butterbeer down in front of Amelia and Tyr. He quietly took a sip, and found it to his liking. Dinner followed soon after, with Timothy and Amelia ignoring each other, talking to everyone else. Me Weasley asked avidly about plugs and electricity, which Tyr explained to the best of his ability, based on his limited knowledge on the subject.

Once dinner was finished, Mr Wealsey and Timothy were busy with a Ministry related discussion and Mrs Weasley was busy in the kitchen. Tyr was standing by the back door, looking out. Amelia came up to him and practically shoved him out the door. She led him a little ways on until they both sat down on the cool grass.

"This is all insane," Tyr said quietly. He couldn't see Amelia, but he knew she was there.

"I know. That's how I saw everything when I first got my acceptance letter to Salem's. You get used to it."

Tyr was about to reply when small little greenish-yellow lights started flickering in the sky. He looked up at them with wide eyes as they danced around against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

"You've never seen fireflies before." Amelia stated rather than asked.

"No, I grew up in the colonies. No fireflies there."

Amelia scooted closer to Tyr and put an arm around his shoulders. "Well, they look magical, don't they?"

Tyr didn't answer her. He was too busy watching the fireflies.

"Think of the two of us as those fireflies," she said softly, "two ordinary people able to do unbelievable things. Thing is though, from the things I've heard from you, you were already a firefly before you came here. You've left people behind, important people and left thing undone, but you have to think of the here and now. You saved the galaxy, kid! Magic can't get you a higher achievement than that, unless you happen to be Harry Potter."

Tyr reasoned that the last part was meant as a joke, but he didn't get it. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, thought about everything he had done in the last four years and just… let go. He began see himself a firefly, buzzing around. Yes, he had a new life, with new possibilities.

"Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure."

Tyr took the razor he had stuffed into his jacket pocket and held it out. "Could you?"

Amelia smiled gently and cast a lumos spell, taking the razor in hand, testing it to see if it would work. It was weak, but it would do the trick. Without speaking, Tyr turned around and Amelia put the razor on full power and started shaving his hair off and into a standard military cut.

When it was done, the two of them stood, brushed off any stray locks of blonde hair off and headed back to the Burrow.

**Right, that's the second chapter finished. I know it's a bit boring, but things will pick up from the next chapter. I also know that most of you won't know some of the words I've used, like takkies or cooldrink cans. The former is what people called track shoes I think, and the latter is what is called soda cans overseas. I use South African English because I'm South African and can't be bothered to use American or UK English. Don't worry though, I won't use local lingo or Afrikaans, otherwise you'll have people saying 'Aweh, howzit my china?', 'Jou ma's 'n koeksister!' and my favourite, 'Eish!' **

**I'd love to know what you guys think of the story so far and constructive criticism is appreciated. **

**In the next chapter, Snape will make an appearance and Tyr will formally be introduced to the magical world. **


	4. FUBAR Part I

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mass Effect trilogy or the Harry Potter series, each belongs to their respective owners and I do not profit from this in any way. I do, however, own all original characters and places. **

**Title: Fallen Star**

**Author: ****Torus's**

**Summary: Shepard had expected his afterlife to be a peaceful place, but it that was not what he found. Instead, he awoke in a dark room surrounded by strangers, stuck in a teenager's body, in 1994 and told that magic exists. Can Shepard learn how to survive as fate throws him into the thick of things? Slash.**

**A/N: Hello dear readers. After I typed 'Jou ma's 'n koeksister!' in the previous chapter's ending A/N, I've been really tempted to just make someone, anyone, say that about Mrs Weasley. But, alas, my dreams were crushed when I realised I couldn't make more OC's to work it into the story. Anyway, I've been sick as a dog, so if something doesn't make sense, bear in mind that I wrote and reread this with a medication riddled mind. **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 03: FUBAR Part I**

Tyr didn't like waiting, it made him uneasy. It reminded him of times when he had to wait for the shit to hit the fan – Mindoir, Akuze and chasing Saren were a few that came to mind. Nothing really good came from waiting, well, not for him anyway. Unless, it was a romantic pursuit, now those were well worth waiting for, but as it was to stand, he had no-one to pursue, and no-one pursuing him. It was good to be a nobody again.

A burg wind blew over him as he sat down on the steps of the front door of the Burrow. Tyr felt a little crowded inside, with Mrs Weasley hovering over him all the time. He wasn't used to that – someone playing the mother hen with him that is. When Anderson had taken him in, the man had been more of a mentor and an uncle than a mother hen.

Tyr idly drummed his fingers against his knees. Snape was late. He was ok with a little tardiness, but this was ridiculous. Three hours late! He had gotten the impression that Snape was a very professional, articulate man, but then again, Tyr had only seen him, let alone spoken to him, for less than ten minutes. The man had already cancelled their first appointment two weeks ago. Snape had to show up soon; otherwise he would make for the hills himself. He was getting a bit stir-crazy from being cooped up in the Burrow for three weeks.

At that thought, Tyr had a sad smile on his face. A bout a stir-crazy was never the case on the Normandy, but then again, it was a spaceship, and he had been the CO of that ship, and had conducted missions on that ship, he had had a family on that ship. Gently, he ran this thumb over the raw, healing scar running across his cheek.

A pop sounded, and Tyr looked up, confused by the sudden noise. Professor Snape stood a few meters away from him, sullenly arranging an imaginary mishap in his robes and cuffs. He didn't even want to know the physics -if any- that were behind what he just did. Suddenly, he realised that he didn't know how to react to the man. Technically, since he was now sixteen again, Snape was the adult, but on the other side of the coin; he was only four years older than what Tyr had been himself three weeks ago. What was he supposed to do? Hug him? Snape didn't really seem like the hugging type. Stand up and shake his hand? Did wizards even shake hands?

"Do not tell me, that in three weeks, you have been turned in a ruffian that is ill mannered, uncultured or squabbles around in the dirt," Snape said, looking down at the teenage boy.

Tyr couldn't help but smile, even if it hurt to do so. "Sorry, sir." Standing up, he walked over to Snape and held out his hand. "That would have been I should say, if I was in the fault, but, it is my understanding that tardiness, for a delayed arrival of three hours, does deserve some notice, no matter what the holdup might have been."

Snape looked over Tyr's proffered hand with a critical eye before reaching forth with his own. Tyr wondered if he had passed some sort of test. He knew that wearing bright red jersey and baggy jeans would not make much of a first impression. He didn't linger on the thought because he was startled by the man's strong grip. He had not expected that, because, honestly, Snape did not look all that physically capable. Maybe it was the large billowing robes.

"I'm glad to see three weeks here has not made you into a babbling idiot," Snape looked Tyr in the eye. "Severus Snape, but you already know that."

"Tyr Shepard, and you already knew that as well."

The door behind Tyr opened and Mrs Weasley greeted Snape, ushering them both inside. Mrs Weasley set them down at the table in the kitchen. Tyr sat down and started drumming his fingers gently, trying to make as little noise as possible, while trying to occupy his fingers. Psychiatrists said it was a nervous habit. He liked to think of it more as a… idiosyncratic relaxation technique. It would have helped, if he knew Snape wasn't inspecting him like hawk did its next meal. He usually wasn't this nervous around strangers, but knowing that the man sitting opposite him was his godfather and that he was trapped 192 years in the past was a bit unsettling.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyr saw Mrs Weasley leave the kitchen.

"The Unspeakable has sent me all his reports regarding you for the last two weeks," Snape said. "There was one particular report that was… concerning."

Tyr stopped drumming his fingers and sighed. He knew what Snape was referring to. Timothy had come to the Burrow a few times a week and did small tests on him, and making him do this and that. The exact incident Snape was referring to happened when they were testing Tyr's motor reflex skills out in the gardens. It mainly consisted of catching this and that, throwing something at a specified target, hand-eye coordination, but while Tyr had been dodging balls, Timothy cast a light Stunning Jinx at him.

Tyr had managed to see it, but it had been little too late, and the spell hit him in the arm. It was supposed to be a harmless spell, but it felt like it had sent a coarse of electricity running up through his veins and straight to his amp. It went haywire, and sent small bursts of dark energy. It felt like someone was trying to drill through his head. Tyr didn't really remember what happened next, but Timothy told him that he had screamed a bit before he passed out.

Looking up at Snape again, Tyr didn't know what to expect.

"Your reaction was more akin to being hit with a Cruciatus Curse, which is very concerning, for I wander what would happen to you, if you were hit by a Cruciatus." Snape paused, and simply looked. "There is something you are not telling us, boy."

Tyr let slip a small groan. He tried to think as little as possible about his amp, especially since Amelia told him what happened to electronic devices around magic. Boom. He didn't want to go boom. He liked his head and his brain matter just where it was.

"Alright," Tyr said with a drawn out sigh. "In the future we discover a new element –you know the periodic table kind– and we learned how manipulate it, use it for ourselves, but we had to use something in order to do it."

"And you have this on your person now?"

"I can't go anywhere without it. You see, only a small percentage of humans can control dark energy or Biotics as we call it. For someone to become a Biotic, you have to have what's called a Biotic amp implanted in the back of your head."

Tyr could see that Snape was trying to follow, but not understanding fully. He tried to think of present day examples to help him, but he couldn't come up with anything.

"It's an electrical device. It's a very sensitive device, and if you get knocked on the head too hard, it could rattle the amp and cause anything from a migraine to an extremely painful experience."

Snape folded his hands on the table and was quiet for a while before he spoke again. "That is inconvenient. So, I imagine that removing this device is not an option."

Tyr paled at the suggestion. Having someone, a human being, a species prone to slips and accidents, physically drill into his skull and then use small, primitive implements controlled by their hands, go into his skull and fiddle around in his brain to remove his amp – which is closely connected to the lobes responsible for sending electrical pulses through the body? Not a damn.

"No offense to present day technology, medicine or science, but no," Tyr said adamantly. "Unless, you know, a doctor –preferably Chakwas– from my time happened to land up here and had all the machines and equipment necessary to remove an amp, then hell no."

"Well," Snape started, "then how do you intend to go to Hogwarts and get an education? You can't just simply live in the Muggle world, because once people find out that there is a surviving heir to the Noble House of Shepard -and they will- there will be many expectations, and duties you have to perform."

"I already got an education! Some of the best Earth had to offer at the time, and what the do you mean by 'Noble House', because I sense that those two words are capitalised."

Tyr looked at Snape, as the man tried to decide what to say next.

"We'll discuss this over at Gringotts, because I have the distinct impression that even if I told you now, you would not believe me."

Tyr frowned. "Gringotts?"

Snape sighed. "The Wizarding bank in Diagon Alley. I'll be taking you there so that we can sort out the matter of your guardianship, and buy you new clothes in the process as well."

Tyr figured that Snape didn't like explaining things, and right now, he wanted to push the man's buttons. "And how do we get there? 'Cause I don't suppose we can just call over a taxi."

Snape stood and walked over to the fireplace. "Since I doubt it will be beneficial to your health to Apperate, we'll be using Floo powder and the Floo Network to get to the Leaky Cauldron, which leads to Diagon Alley."

"Uh, what?"

Snape sneered. "Just get over here, boy."

Tyr wanted to push the man's buttons, but he didn't want to test Snape's temper. He quietly did as he was told and stood next to Snape, and stared into the fire place. "Now what? Don't tell me this has to do with those green flames."

Snape grabbed a handful of grey powder from a bowl on the mantle above the fire place. "This is Floo powder. It is a means of transport in the Wizarding world – it magically allows us to travel from one fireplace to another. Just stand in the fireplace with a handful of powder, pronounce Leakey Cauldron, clearly, and throw the powder down into the fireplace, and yes, it involves green flames. They're magical, and can't hurt you."

Tyr begrudgingly took a handful of the same grey powder Snape did and bent down and stepped into the fireplace. Taking a deep breath, he held his hand up. "Leaky Cauldron!"

The same sensation as before came over him, but this time, Tyr was expecting it and while he felt like he was whirling around in a vortex, he managed to get brief glimpses of other fireplaces, but soon enough, he came to a standstill. Not wanting to hold up some sort of magical fireplace traffic, he stepped over the grate and into a dimly lit pub.

Hearing the roar of flames, Tyr turned around and saw Snape standing behind him. The man stepped forward and motioned for Tyr to walk on.

"I imagine," Snape said, "that Molly has already fed you."

"Yes, sir."

Snape nodded. "Well then, I think we can continue on straight to Gringotts then."

Tyr paused for a moment, and moved slightly to the side and let Snape pass, then fell into step beside him. They went out a door and what looked like a small courtyard with a brick wall. Snape drew his wand.

"You should remember what I'm about to do, because I will only do it once and only because you are without a wand presently."

Tyr frowned, but nodded his head in understanding when Snape glanced his way. He watched as the man tapped three bricks before putting his wand away. He was about to ask if Shnape had done whatever he was doing wrong, but the words caught in his throat when the bricks moved. By themselves. They parted and created a doorway into what looked like a bustling street, filled with people. Now, he was used to sliding doors and such, so inanimate moving objects was not a new concept, but the wall was made of bricks, and bricks were held together by a cement mixture. To his mind, brick walls shouldn't move, but he supposed that magic could just as well defy the laws of physics, just from what he had seen in the last three weeks alone.

Snape looked to Tyr. "Don't fall behind."

Tyr had to snap himself out of his own little world when Snape just suddenly started walking on, without even waiting to see if he had heard what the man had said. With a few long strides, he caught up with Snape, looking around while trying to keep up with Snape's brisk pace and avoiding bumping into people at the same time. He wished Snape would slow down. He was all new to this, and he wanted to take in the sights, but there was sense in visiting the bank first, he supposed, and maybe it had something to do with the whole 'Noble House' thing from earlier as well.

Catching glimpses of a few shops, when he could see past the people, Tyr had to say that he was stumped. The only store he recognised was some sort of pet shop, and a book store, all the others looked, well, foreign to him. Sighing, he looked ahead of, so that he wouldn't accidently walk into someone if Snape suddenly stopped.

He nearly stopped in his tracks at the sight of the large white building with bronze doors. It was strange to see a structure that big made from stone. Especially in a place solely inhabited by humans, uh well, magical folk. Did they even count as human beings. Probably. Actually, he wasn't too sure, now that he thought about it.

As they got closer, to what Tyr assumed was Gringotts, he noticed a small person standing guard at the bronze doors. It kind of looked like a Volus from his current distance. Actually, he had never seen a Volus outside of its suit.

"Do remember that goblins are in charge of your vaults, so it is recommended not to insult them," Snape said.

"That thing is a goblin?" Tyr asked, fascinated.

"Yes."

Tyr looked more closely at the goblin. It was the same height as a Volus, but it wasn't as... portly. It's face was scrunched up and very grumpy-looking, with pointed ears. As they ascended the stairs, the goblin looked over at them, and Tyr left like being silly and pulling a face at it to see what it would do. Joker would've done it.

The doors opened automatically and Tyr felt like he was encroaching onto someone's territory as he stepped over the threshold of Gringotts. They walked into a small entrance chamber with sizable silver doors. Frowning, Tyr wondered if it was real silver and bronze they used for the doors, if so, he was half tempted to it scrape all off or just take the doors off their hinges and run. Precious metals like that were near impossible to find and were more often used in engines and other practical objects rather than something as mundane as a set of doors.

Squinting, he saw that there were words engraved on the silver doors:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Weird. Those goblins seemed like temperamental bunch. Stingy too.

"Do keep up."

Tyr dragged his eyes away from the words and towards Snape, who was standing in front of the doors, waiting for him. Quietly, he jogged up to Snape and walked beside the man again.

The hall had a high ceiling , and nearly the entire structure was made of marble, and occupied by large wooden counters and various goblins, witches and wizards. Eyeing a particularly dark robed witch and the goblin helping her, Tyr noticed the goblin was counting gold coins and weighing them on a scale.

"Pay attention, Shepard," Snape sneered at Tyr whacking him on the back of the head.

"Ow." Tyr rubbed his head, frowning at Snape. It had been years since someone had hit him in the head, not since he was seventeen and he lived with Anderson. Snape didn't know it, but he just earned some brownie points.

"Professor Snape."

It was the same woman Tyr had been looking at earlier, before he got hit in the head. She was quite attractive, with her aquiline nose, almond-shaped dark eyes, and dark make-up. If Tyr had tried guess her age, he would say she was about in her late twenties, but then again, he had stopped trying to guess the age of the female gender since he had met Liara and Samara. She seemed friendly enough, and apparently knew Snape.

"Madam Pince," Snape greeted. "Strange to see you here at this time."

Tyr didn't know if he was imagining it, but there seemed to be something between the two of them, some type of tension. Perhaps sexual tension? He knew all about that one. He had to wait over three years to get Kaidan in bed with him, granted, he was half dead for two of those years. The chase was fun, but it wasn't a ball the entire time. Kaidan liked to sulk about Cerberus and just brood in general, not all of which could always be chalked up to migraines.

"This must be the young Mr Shepard I've been hearing about," Madam Pince said, regarding Tyr curiously.

"Indeed," Snape said. "This is Tyr Shepard, Shepard this is Madam Irma Pince, she is the Hogwarts librarian."

Again, Tyr didn't know what to do, so out of habit, he held his hands behind his back and nodded. That was what he would have done when greeting another officer, well, informally at least. The fact that his hair was still buzz cut didn't help either, it made him feel like he was back at Basics. There you didn't ask questions, not even "How high, Sir?" or "How many times, Sir?" You just jumped like there was no tomorrow. Madam Pince kind of looked like one of the drill seargants he had once. Voster, that was her name, Marian Voster. She was a no nonsense woman. Now that he thought about her, he wondered what happend to her during the Reaper Invasion.

Realizing that there was a conversation happening between the adults, Tyr decided to pay more attention, because the last thing he needed to give over was that he usually had his head stuck in the clouds.

"I see, so you are here to prove guardianship, as well as getting a bit of a head start on the recognition process as him being the rightful heir to the Shepard estates," Madam Pince said with a thoughtful look. "If you encounter any problems, feel free to contact me."

Tyr noticed the way her eyes twinkled when she said that. Now he felt awkward. There was definitely something going on between the two of them, no doubt about it now. He watched Snape, to see what the man would do next, but what he did was the last thing Tyr expected.

Snape reached out and gently took Madam Pince's left hand and kissed the back of it, bow slightly as he did. This was almost as awkward as when he walked in o Tali and Garrus once. Looking more closely as the scene, Tyr noticed that Madam Pince had a sizable, ornate ring on the index finger of her left hand. He also noticed that Snape was holding her hand with his left hand, and he could just make out the edges of a ring on his index finger as well. It seemed like too many similarities to be a coincidence. Tyr tried to stop himself from jumping to a conclusion, because if there was one thing he learnt from travelling across the galaxy, it was to never jump to the most likely conclusion.

"Lady Pince," Snape said, letting her take her hand back.

"Lord Prince," she said in return, inclining her head gracefully before walking away.

Tyr was silent for a while, waiting for Snape to say something. He understood Asari, Quarian and Turian social interactions, but he sometimes still surprised by his own species. He had never see a goodbye greeting like that before, well he had read about, but even then descriptions of people greeting each other like that ended in the early 19th century. Tyr reminded him that he was actually a 192 years in the past, and found out that there was a secret community of magic. Everything he knew could be wrong.

Snape suddenly started walking again and Tyr jumped back into pace with him.

"So," Tyr started, trying to get Snape to talk. "What was the whole 'Lord' and 'Lady' business about?"

Snape ignored him and kept on walking to a larger counter near the end of the hall. The goblin sitting there sneered down at them.

"Yes?" the goblin asked.

"I owled Gringotts a few weeks prior in connection with the Shepard vault," Snape said factually.

"And how might be inquiring about it?"

Snape lifted his left hand and briefly showed his ring to the goblin.

"Very well, Lord Prince. I'm Griphook, and I manage the Black and Shepard vaults and estates. You know that a key, the heir, an honorary family member and myself is required to access any information?"

Snape withdrew a small, ornate golden key and presented it to Griphook. "I think you will find everything in order, as there is only one honorary member and the Shepard heir, is right beside me."

"Merely precautions. You never know if the boy was under the influence of… questionable means." Griphook got off his chair and around the desk. "Follow me."

Tyr frowned, but followed when Snape did. They followed Griphook through a set of doors and into something that looked suspiciously like underground rock and to what looked like a set of train tracks. A cart appeared, with seating in it and Griphook got in without hesitation, followed by Snape and Tyr last. The cart started off slow, and Tyr hoped it didn't take too long to get to wherever it was they were going.

"Usually, the Will of the previous Lord would have been read in my office, but in the same Will, it stated, that everything will only come into effect, such as official titles and such once the heir graduated from Hogwarts. It also state, however, that the heir will have access to everything within the Shepard vaults, given that Mr Shepard here lives with his guardian and the honorary family member, who happens to be you, Lord Prince."

Tyr was about to ask a question when the cart suddenly went down a dip and they picked a lot of speed. He couldn't keep track of how many bends, dips of loops they went through, but he now finally knew why everyone besides Grunt and Wrex complained about his driving skills.

"The Shepard Family Vault – Vault 864."

Tyr climbed out, happy to be standing on solid ground again. He looked around, and noticed that they were standing in what seemed to be a large antechamber. It was dark, and the only light came from the lantern Griphook was carrying. A low growl sounded. It didn't sound friendly.

Snape pulled Tyr behind him, drawing his wand. "You never mentioned extra security measures."

"I didn't know if they would still be alive after all this time," Griphook answered.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tyr asked, desperate to understand what was going on.

A snort came from the darkness. Tyr felt like a defenseless baby. A large paw stepped into the light cast by the lantern. It was easily as big as a plate, and furry. He could see Snape tense up as another paw came into view. Griphook, however, seemed unfazed.

Tyr felt his blood run cold when more of the… monster came into view. A large, snarling wolf's head became visible. Its orange eyes seemed to zero in on Tyr, who for the first time since he was six, felt like hiding behind someone else. Griphook grabbed Tyr by the hand and dragged him away from Snape and forcefully pushed him forward. The wolf looked down at him, and stepped forward, and he could see large leathery wings coming from its back, and it had a snake as a tail. It bent its head and Tyr stayed as still as humanly possible as it sniffed him.

Tyr felt like he could have died from a heart attack when something wet, cold and fleshy was pressed against his forehead. He looked up and saw that it had its nose on his forehead. He couldn't explain it, but it felt like waves of emotion was coming from the monster wolf thing. He found it hard to name them at first, but he soon realized they were emotions of relief and happiness. Slowly, Tyr found he could move again. He reached up and gently laid his hands on its muzzle. The head of its snake tail hovered over Tyr's head and tasted at his scent.

Tyr could not what he was doing. He could feel its teeth, and they were about as long as his arm. He found himself leaning against it, using its nose to hold himself up. Suddenly, it felt like he had just come back from a mission – completely drained of energy. The wolf drew away, and Tyr could only sense what was happening, and not do anything about it. He was going to fall flat on his face at the rate he was going down. A hand had gotten a hold of his arm and pulled him up. Tyr looked up and saw Snape looking down at him, easing him to the floor, checking for any injuries.

Tyr could see that Snape was talking to him, but he couldn't hear anything. He looked up at Snape, and saw him tense up completely, looking at something. Moving his head slightly, Tyr saw what had Snape so frozen up over. The snake tail was hovering over them, looking down at the pair of them. Snape was about to raise his wand, but Tyr tugged on his sleeve. He didn't know why, but he knew the snake wouldn't hurt either of them. The snake lowered its head, opened its mouth, and huffed out a gust of its breath and retreated back to the darkness.

Tyr felt his energy return. "What was that?" he asked.

"That," Snape said, cautiously looking around, "was a kludde, a very rare, very dangerous creature. Fitting that it guards the vault."

Tyr wanted to ask why, but decided against it. His question would just be sidetracked anyway. Torches suddenly lit up, and Tyr saw that the kludde was standing with its back to them, on its hind legs, trying to get to something. A large wolf's head made of stone was above an arch, with its mouth agape. The kludde audible drew a breath and then blew a surge of fire from its mouth and into that of the stone wolf's. The statue's eyes radiated an orange colour and then closed its mouth in a fluid motion. The kludde dropped down on all fours once more and moved to the side, revealing a large set of wrought iron doors barred with curve, ornate bars that slowly back drew into the wall.

Griphook stepped forward to the door, ignoring the kludde sitting next to it like a dog waiting for a treat and slid the vault key into its keyhole, while pressing his hand to the door in the process. Tyr accepted Snape's hand and allowed himself to be drawn up to his feet. He was disorientated for a second, but recovered in time to see the doors to the vault swing open.

Tyr motioned to Snape to lead. He was the one with the wand after all, so if something jumped out of that vault, which taking into consideration his luck in the past, Snape would be able to handle it. Tyr couldn't believe his eyes as he stepped into the vault. It was as large as the hall up top in Gringotts, if not bigger. The vault was crammed full of anything from bookshelves to display cases, weapons to cloaks and skeletons to tapestries. What caught immediate attention however, was the small table almost directly in from of them, bearing two letters.

One was addressed to Snape himself, and the other to the manager of the vault. Tyr walked further into the vault, leaving Snape and Griphook to do their reading. He trailed his fingers over book spines as he walked past them. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. A large dragon skeleton stood a few meters away, its wings outstretched, its neck straightened and its mouth open like it was going to breath fire. What was it with the fire? First the kludde and that statue and now a dragon, really? Tyr smiled, but felt it drop when it sunk in that he was looking at a dragon skeleton. Dragons were real.

Tyr cautiously looked over his shoulder to see if either Snape or Griphook were done yet, but it didn't seem like it. He was alone in a huge vault that could have had anything in it, hell, he wouldn't put it past himself that there could be something in here that could kill him. He didn't even have a gun, not that he thought it might have helped. Maybe, if magic worked, bullet would too. He could only hope.

He walked off to the side, keeping an eye on the dragon skeleton before he set his eyes to the front, which was just in time because he nearly walked in to a low table. Swearing softly, he crouched down to inspect the items on the table. The table was filled with boxes of varying sizes, all made of wood and various decorative work, except for a medium sized one in the center, which was plain, except for the golden initials on the lid. _T.L.S._

Tyr frowned. Those were his initials. He thought things were weird with the goblins, and then fucked with the kludde and dragon skeleton, now it was just FUBAR, plain and simple as that.

**Ok, bit of a cliffhanger, I know, but this is 10 pages already, so I spilt this into two parts. I apologize if there is some horrendous error, because like I said, I'm on quite a few different medications at the moment. **

**I just love writing this story, and I hope I get some of the sarcasm across that I had in mind when I wrote this. To me, sarcasm is a way of preventing me from the beating the daylights out of people. Oh, I should have mentioned before, or I might've, I can't remember, but I'm using my custom Shepard, not the default John Shepard. I'm also using Madam Pince as she's portrayed in the movies.**

**It actually took me a while to decide which monster to use to guard the vault. A dragon was used in the movies for the Lestrange vault, so that was out. It was first a chimera, but then I started looking for something that people would not have come across very often – thus we have the kludde! It doesn't actually have a snake's head on its tail, but just a scaly tail. I didn't think that was scary enough, so I used creative license. **

**It will be a while before I update, just a fair warning. **

**I'm curious as to what you guys think is in that box, and I'm wondering if any of you can guess it right. Anywho, time for me to get under a blanket and indulge in my new TV series obsession. By the way, FUBAR means fucked up beyond any recognition. **

**I hope you all enjoyed it. **

**See you when I see you! **


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